


Tripping over the edge

by CorsetJinx



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Gen, assumptions and propositions, inappropriate remarks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7269499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edge makes an assumption based on Cecil's, admittedly androgynous, appearance. It doesn't go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tripping over the edge

After watching the so-called leader of their hodge-podge little group for the past, well, however long it’d been since they’d met, Edge finally decided to try his luck. It was as near to ideal as he would get, the Eblanese prince suspected – their camp secured by the magic of the wards beneath their feet, Rosa absorbed in the task of treating an infected wound on Rydia’s back in the safety and privacy of the tent they’d set up. The monk, Yang, sat in meditation some time ago and had remained exactly the same ever since.

If he hadn’t known better, known the techniques for himself even if he didn’t always adhere to them, he might have assumed the man to be asleep.

So, stretching his arms high above his head with a low groan, Edge let himself sigh as his back finally popped. He took a moment to revel in it, rolling his neck back and forth, then around, to loosen the tensed muscles. Yang didn’t move, didn’t even open an eye, and he found himself admiring the older man’s focus.

Getting up, he made his way over to where Cecil sat, still caring for the pale, elaborate armor he wore into combat. Edge didn’t rush, allowing his posture no more swagger than usual as he watched the other man.

He hadn’t been certain, at first, if Cecil was actually a man. The highness of his cheekbones, curves of his face and the length of soft looking white hair had done a number on his usually astute observations. And it wasn’t just that. For a man used to battle, giving orders, Cecil’s voice was remarkably light – not at all like the Dragoon that the man had mentioned as his friend.

Cecil’s tendency to sleep in full armor had also put a damper on his little investigation – though he could hardly be blamed since the territory they’d crossed thus far had been far from hospitable enough to take the time necessary to unload all that metal, let alone care for it.

From what Edge could see, and he had good night vision even without the aid of the fire they’d lit earlier, the scratches and dents along the metal in the Paladin’s hands wasn’t going to be something easily fixed without proper tools.

But it occupied the Baronian’s attention and that’s what he wanted.

He had an extra couple of seconds to admire the white haired man’s profile, hair messily pulled back to better allow him to care for his armor, before Cecil looked up from his slouched position. Even sitting, Cecil was tall, but the preoccupied expression the Paladin wore faded into affability as he came out of whatever thought he’d been stuck in.

It wasn’t quite a smile, but friendly enough all things considered.

The blue tint to his lips and nails was still a little odd though, if Edge were honest.

“Was there something you needed, Edge?” Cecil asks quietly, enough so that the words can be heard but not loud enough to disturb Yang. There’s little chance anything other than a sudden cave-in or monster attack will distract Rosa from her work, and last either of them saw Rydia wouldn’t be moving for a few hours.

Even so, it’s not quite private enough.

Nonetheless, Edge gives Cecil his best smile beneath his veil, shrugging just enough to alleviate any concerns the other man might have about him being quiet so far.

“Actually,” Edge starts, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck, as though a thought won’t leave him alone and he’s bothered by it. “I was wondering if you’d have the time for a chat, in private.”

This, he knows, will come off as slightly odd. The camp is nearly as secure as if they were in their own personal fortress thanks to the magic lain between the stones encircling the site, private as one would get without making the decision to step out of the magical barrier keeping monsters at bay. Indeed, he thinks he can see thoughts similar, if not identical, thoughts pass over the Paladin’s upturned face – violet eyes do glance towards the tent and Yang’s stationary figure, but when Cecil looks back at him Edge is honestly surprised when the pale man simply nods.

“A moment, please.” Cecil murmurs, setting down the breastplate of his armor with enough care that it doesn’t make significant noise. There’s other pieces that the man nudges aside, all with the same care as he quickly dusts his hands clean before he stands.

It’s a smooth, easy movement and suddenly Edge has to look up to be able to look Cecil in the eye.

He doesn’t like it, never really has enjoyed someone being taller than him, but it’s easy to nod and turn away when Cecil tells him to lead the way.

It’s almost too easy.

Edge thinks there’s a tingle in the air as they pass outside of the barrier, but if the other man has any thoughts on it he keeps them to himself. The tunnels of Eblan stretch out and go deep into the rock around them, eventually passing into the Tower of Babil. He feels his anger stir at the thought of being so close, but pushes it aside because what he feels towards Rubicante and his flunkies has nothing to do with the present moment.

He picks a spot a little ways from the camp, close enough to still be in plain sight should one of the girls poke their heads out to look or if Yang turned his head. The coolness of the air gives him a little bit of respite from the fire and when he turns to face Cecil again he’s surprised at how the other man seems to glow in the darkness.

A damn weird trick of the light, surely.

“Is it about the Tower?” Cecil asks, light voice pitched soft and concerned. In the shadows the violet of his eyes looks darker, but not quite black.

Edge can feel the frown taking over his expression beneath his mask, devotes a moment to feeling what the mention of their goal does for the fire of his anger before brushing past it. He won’t let it go, but he doesn’t have to let it burn him apart from within either.

With a shrug more pronounced than his previous one, he closes his eyes for a second in a blink. “Not exactly. I’ve been doing my best to avoid thinking of it for right now.”

When he opens his eyes, it’s easy to see the understanding in Cecil’s face. Not pity, just understanding.

If he really thought about it, he might have considered it nice.

“What I have been wondering,” he continues, shifting his weight to one leg, “is whether you might be free for a while.” Edge smiles, knowing that it will show more in the curve of his eyes than anything else.

Cecil blinked, off guard and apparently confused. Edge watched the consideration go on in the Paladin’s eyes, growing more and more certain that the former commander of the Red Wings was at a loss.

“I have time to help if you need something, if that is what you mean.” Caution laced the words, the politeness in Cecil’s voice almost too much to bear. There was still confusion in the depths of his curious eyes, but enough concern that made it obvious that Cecil didn’t want to abandon him if he really needed help.

Even so, he had to force back a sigh. And a laugh, because really, who would have thought that a knight of Baron would care so much?

“What I mean is,” reaching out with a hand, Edge let it rest on the curve of Cecil’s shoulder as he lowered his voice further, “are you _free?_ ”

Without his armor and chainmail, Cecil felt the same as any other person might. The thin cloth of his undershirt allowed him to feel the warmth of the other man’s skin, a surprising bit of muscle as well. For all his relatively thin frame, the Paladin was certainly no slouch in fitness.

As the prince of Eblan let his hand trail over the taller man’s shoulder, nearly brushing the side of his neck, a gleam of understanding surfaced at last in violet eyes.

Whatever Cecil might have said or done never happened as a heavy hand curled itself around Edge’s forearm and all but dragged him away from the offended Baronian. Edge stumbled, confused and instincts screaming for him to lash out – his mind finally catching up to the fact that it was Yang’s scowling face that he was seeing, rather than some monster’s.

Yang. Scowling.

He’d thought the monk from Fabul only had one expression – the odd sort of serenity that people who knew themselves very well seemed to have.

“Cecil is not what you are thinking of, Edge. As one ruler to another you ought to show proper respect to one who is your equal, rather than sullying your honor and slighting his.” Yang did not immediately release the grip he had on Edge’s arm, brown eyes boring into green with a glare like a thunderstorm.

Guilt, however momentary, was unwelcome and Edge pushed it down accordingly.

“I didn’t know, alright? Now I do. You can lay off already.” Almost experimentally, he pulled his arm, surprised when the monk simply let him go. It upset his balance and made him stumble back, but he got to see the frosty look Cecil was directing his way in all its almost otherworldly glory.

“Thank you, Yang. I believe we are done here.” To the monk, Cecil’s voice softened just a little. The two men shared a look, the Paladin slowly nodding at some unspoken question the monk directed his way.

Yang slowly reciprocated the gesture and turned, not looking at either of them as he walked back to camp.

Edge glanced between the two as the monk departed, a hand lingering by his shuriken just in case.

Slowly, Cecil directed that same cold gaze his way, his normally amiable expression replaced with a stoicism rivaling that of his Dragoon friend.

“I would like to believe that what just happened was an honest mistake, Edge.” There was a warning in the words, each carefully chosen, spoken like a prince. Violet eyes didn’t blink, making him uneasy as he stared back. Cecil seemed to take stock of him in that moment, calculating in a way Edge hadn’t witnessed before.

“In the interest of the group and that of our countries I think neither of us should speak of this again. You have your answer, I assume?”

“I do.” Edge kept his tone neutral as he responded, still watching the Paladin as warily as the other man was assessing him. “Crystal clear.”

Cecil’s snowy hair shone in the faint light as he inclined his head, his back straight as he turned away and walked back to camp straight as an arrow.

Edge took the first watch that night, keeping ample distance between himself and Cecil’s tent.


End file.
